Phoenix in the Dark
by hiddeninthedarknessofdaylight
Summary: Boy is she surprised when she finds out that those shackles aren't for her... Not that they'd ever manage to chain her again anyway. - rating subject to change in later chapters. Read and Review! Flames welcome.
1. The Hunter Gratzner

The gleaming form of the commercial ship Hunter Gratzner was more than enough to take her breath away. She stared in awe at the ship that would take her far from her past. Her heartbeat accelerated rapidly even as she forced her eager feet to maintain a steady tempo.

The sun beat down hard on her sweatshirt-covered shoulders. Her work-calloused hands remained hidden in her pockets where she nervously fiddled with the boarding pass to the ship. Her worn black leather pants felt hot against the skin on her legs. All the while her boots continued their soft beat, like a metronome on its lowest volume setting.

Her eyes casually scanned the crowds cramming the port, lingering briefly on reflections of the people behind her. Until she was safe, everyone was suspicious. She did not know who exactly would be looking for her. She only knew how slim her odds of success were.

When the soft sounds of her feet became the gentle clang of boot-on-metal, she began to relax ever so slightly. She checked her boarding pass for her cryo-locker number: Cabin one, locker eleven.

Cabin one was bustling with activity when she entered. People in official-looking uniforms hurried around, checking screens, showing passengers how to get into their cryo lockers, making last-minute preparations. She assumed they were the ship's crew. Quietly, and hopefully inconspicuously, she climbed into the locker indicated by her pass: #11. On her left, an extra-large tube showed signs of recent installment.

It was another hour and a half before they were ready to disembark. She tensed every time someone passed by on their way to another cabin. Any one of them could catch her – could be the one to take her back. In addition to regulating her paranoia, she took meticulous note of the people who were in the lockers around her. A woman in prospector-like clothes was next to her. A man in similar garb was to the woman's right. Beyond that, one locker was empty and all the rest were filled. The large locker to her left was still empty. Across from her on the other side of the cabin, three more lockers were empty, including the one directly across the way.

Finally, the lockers hummed into life. She settled back into the cushioned seat and prepared for sleep. She felt a small pinprick in her forearm as a needle was inserted under her skin. A lukewarm liquid was pumped into her veins. She thought the liquid's temperature was strange – from what she had heard, cryo was supposed to be an icy, mind numbing sleep that froze the body in time. She wondered what was wrong. With a slight, rueful smile, she realized the answer. Of course cryo would not be enough to freeze her. It was barely enough to cool her down.

But even if the cold had no effect on her, the chemicals did their job well. Her mind slipped into a dazed fog. The edges of her vision blurred. She felt ever-so-slightly drowsy. Time began to speed up.

Suddenly, her name flashed in green on the inside of the glass. Her age, weight, height, parents, and homeworld were listed underneath the name. A wave of panic swept over her. How had it know who she was? Who else on the ship would know? Had they alerted anyone? How much time did she have? A plan began to form in her still-groggy mind. Already, she was beginning to raise her body temperature, purging herself of the chemicals of cryo that would slow her. A pair of boots stepped down hard on the metal floor, filling her ears with the resounding ring of vibrating aluminum. Her heart raced, pounding almost audibly against her chest. She reviewed her plan mentally, making slight adjustments where needed. She hadn't expected them to come so fast. Then she remembered that cryo had sped up her perception of time. Panic swept over her again. The footsteps continued, joined by another pair. The clink of steal chains accompanied each thumping step, as did the cold clicking of a firearm. They drew closer to her every moment. At last, they stopped before her locker. Another set of footsteps approached, these lighter, softer, quicker.

"So this is him?" a rough, tense voice accused. She opened her eyes slightly to see what was happening. A man in uniform (she assumed it was the captain) was standing on the other side of two men. He had a graying moustache and bright blue eyes. She could tell he was trying to maintain a calm exterior, but his nervousness was obvious by the way he eyed the other two men.

"Yup. This is him," confirmed the man with the gun. He had reddish-blonde hair. Tall. Lithe. She couldn't see his face, but his accent was very slightly southern and reminded her vaguely of the old western movies she used to watch as a child. He stood slightly behind the third man, holding his gun to the small of his broad back.

She turned her attention to the man in chains. He was very tall – towering over his captor by several inches. His head was shaven bald, but the stubble was beginning to show. He had a bit in his mouth, circling around the back of his head. His broad shoulders were relaxed, but he looked strangely uncomfortable in his restraints. A pair of black goggles covered his eyes, the strap a black band around his skull.

Relief swept over her as she watched. They hadn't come for her after all.

"I shouldn't have ever agreed to this, Mr. Johns. All of my passengers are in danger," the captain complained.

"Riddick's going back to slam, Captain. He won't be bothering you or any of you passengers for a long time," Johns assured him. "Just stick to the plan we agreed to and no one will have to know."

The captain scowled and strode off. "I hope you know what you're doing."

Johns and Riddick turned around. Johns poked the convict in the back with the gun. "Get in."

Riddick growled menacingly, but complied. Johns took a moment to attach his chains to the walls of the locker. After that, she couldn't see much of anything beyond the wall to her left. It wasn't long before she heard the door to Riddick's locker seal shut.

"Sleep well, Riddick," John's mocked, a contempt-filled sneer on his face. He then climbed into his own cryo locker across the cabin.

Her mind raced from one thought to the next, centering on the man in the locker next to her. Taking a deep breath, she let her questions remain dormant. She was safe for the time being. She would worry about the rest when the time came. Slowly, she allowed the fire to recede from her veins and the cryo chemicals once again took over. Her mind drifted aimlessly. In front of her eyes, on the glass, glowing dimly green, was her name. Adara Fairfield.


	2. What a landing

In a daze, she watched the small pieces of rock fly through the walls of the cabin. She watched the captain's line go flat. She watched the two other crew members fall from their lockers and run to the control room, shouting to each other in the process. Something was wrong… very wrong.

As she became more and more aware of what was happening, Adara raised her body temperature more and more until she was free from the chemicals of cryo. She reached down and carefully extracted the needle from her arm, leaving it to hang limply from the wall of the locker. The door did not open. Frustrated that she didn't know how to get out, Adara thought seriously about breaking the glass. Just in time, Johns flicked a switch from inside his locker and fell to the floor. Adara smirked and imitated him, but did not fall. Instead, she coolly climbed out into the cabin.

Johns rubbed his eyes and stumbled around a little, ten, when his head cleared sufficiently, carefully checked to make sure Riddick was still restrained.

Alert and clear-headed, Adara observed John's disorientation casually. It took him a minute to notice her.

"What the hell is going on?" he demanded.

She shrugged. "How am I supposed to know? You've been awake as long as I have."

His eyebrows knitted together in a frown. "How are you so…?"

She raised her eyebrows questioningly.

He shook his head. "Nevermind. You know, you should really ---."

The rest of what he was going to say was but off by a violent jerk. Johns lost his footing and fell to the ground. Adara dropped into a stable crouch and adjusted with the ship. Something was still wrong. Very suddenly, everything smoothed out. Adara grabbed the nearest handhold, which happened to be on the wall right next to Riddick's cryo locker. She was just in time. The moment her hands closed around the handle, the ship struck ground and half of the cabin was torn away. She hung on for dear life as her feet flew out from underneath her. It seemed like forever before the ship slowed to a stop and Adara's feet returned none-too-gently to the ground. Her body shook with adrenaline. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to regain control of herself. Her mind began to function again. Warmth returned to her fingertips. But it was still difficult to breathe properly. Blaming that on the atmosphere, she forced herself to release her grip on the handle she had been clinging to.

"You okay?" A hand touched her shoulders. She knew instantly that it was Johns and resisted the sudden overwhelming urge to fling his hand away. Her stomach turned.

"I'm fine." Her voice was flat and unemotional. She had to work to keep her revulsion to herself. She knew he was trying to be nice, but her instant dislike of him was something she decided to trust.

"Yo, give me a hand with this," the prospector woman called. Everyone was pretty much awake at that point. Johns left her to help the woman and Adara sent a silent thank you to whatever powers that might have been listening. She took a deep breath, intending to follow and help, but glanced at Riddick through the broken glass of his cryo locker. She got the eerie feeling that the smirk playing across his lips was meant for her and that he somehow guessed how she felt about Johns. Slightly unnerved, she went to help the others.

It didn't take very long to extract the survivors from the cracked cryo lockers. Altogether there were ten of them: Adara, of course; William Johns, the "cop"; Shazza and Zeke, the free-ranging prospector couple; Imam Al Abud and his three charges, on their way to New Mecca; Carolyn Fry, the only surviving crew-member and new captain of the group; and Riddick, who Johns described as a "sociopath mass murderer."

Adara roamed through the cabin for a little while, looking for anything that might be interesting. When she noticed the others standing around looking at something on the floor, she went to see what was going on.

Fry was sitting on the ground, tears in her eyes, with the bloody form of a dying man in her lap. The end of some sort of lever was sticking out of his chest.

"Get outta here," Fry ordered, obviously upset. "All of you."

Everyone but Adara filed solemnly out of the cabin (although Johns hesitated momentarily). She absorbed the scene and knew the man was not going to survive. She moved closer, hesitating. She was almost afraid to do anything.

"Miss Fry?" she stuttered, stumbling over herself. "Captain? Ma'am?"

Fry did not look up. "I thought I told you to leave."

"You did."

"So why are you still here?"

She hesitated again, unsure of herself.

"Well?"

"I can help."

The captain looked up at her, hope shining like a beacon in her eyes. "You can save him." At that moment, the man screamed in agony. Fry flinched. Adara steeled herself against the sound and against her own uncertainty.

"No. But I can make it faster. Less painful for him."

Adara kneeled down next to the captain, taking the dying man's head in her lap. She positioned her hands on either side of his temples, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. She allowed the heat of her own body to mix with the dwindling warmth of his. She could feel him jerk with agony, and suddenly his pain was also hers. She bit her lower lip to prevent herself from crying out, and, instead of ignoring it like she normally would have done, she focused on it, trying to find the white hot center of the pain. When she found it, she slowly forced it to cool, taking the pain away from his body into her own and allowing it to dissipate in the empty air. His breathing slowed and relaxed; she struggled to keep herself steady. When the pain was gone, she drained what was left of his life force, finally extinguishing his fire. When she opened her eyes, all there was left on the floor was an empty shell of a man. He was gone.

Exhausted, she turned to Fry. "Do you want to be alone with him?"

The captain didn't answer for a long moment, staring at the ashen face of her friend. "No. I don't want to stay."

Adara eased herself up off the ground, her stomach churning. "I need to go outside." Fry nodded and left the room. Adara followed, but only got as far as the next section of wreckage before bile rose in her throat. Her whole body convulsed as she wretched. When she finished, she lied down on the cool metal floor, utterly spent.

"Do that often?" a rough, yet strangely smooth, voice inquired from across the way. Adara didn't look up; she knew who it was.

"Every time."

"It's going to get hot; you should save your strength."

Adara grunted noncommittally and closed her eyes. Her body yearned for a few minutes of peace. She focused on breathing, drawing one shuddering breath after another. In and out; in and out. Over and over again. Finally, she settled herself and her hands stopped shaking. Adara sat up and leaned against a nearby storage box.

She scowled at the vomit on the floor, noticing the stench for the first time. She waved her hand, circulating the energy in the air, and let the mess catch fire. Adara watched the flames consume the substance for a little while, then, remembering that she wasn't alone, looked up at her companion for the first time. His eyes were blindfolded, but he seemed to be looking right at her as if it weren't even there. He was on his knees, his hands bound behind his back, and was chained to one of the vertical supports that used to hold up the ceiling. A bit was hanging around his neck, as if he'd just simply let it slip out of his mouth. Another man might look pathetic in such a predicament, Adara thought, chained like an animal; Riddick did not.

"You gonna put that out anytime soon?" He gestured with his head towards the burning slop.

"It'll burn out by itself." She hesitated, unsure of how to ask what she wanted to know. "So what'd you do."

"Murder." His matter-of-fact tone told Adara that she was being tested. She played along.

"Seems like death is unavoidable sometimes," she noted, her mind going back to the life she'd just ended.

He shrugged a shoulder. "It happens. You don't seem to have much of a stomach for it."

"It's… difficult to explain…" She looked away.

"Sure it is," he mocked. "For you."

Her eyes flashed angrily as she abruptly stood up. Riddick remained unmoved, save a small smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. Adara stopped a few inches in front of him and kneeled until he was at eye level.

The smirk prevailed. "Don't get too close," he cautioned. "I bite." His voice was dark and menacing, mockingly threatening.

She raised her hands to his temples. "Shut up," she ordered. "And sit still." She closed her eyes and touched two fingers on each hand to his skin.

In her mind's eye, the physical contact blazed, the fire speeding up her arms and making her extremities tingle familiarly. She took a deep breath and dove into Riddick's mind. Everywhere her consciousness touched his, they were seared together. Their memories merged; their thoughts combined. They saw themselves through the other's eyes. Their arms began to ache where their hands were bound. Their knees hurt from sitting on the ground for so long. Yet none of that compared to the exultant agony coursing through their blood. She searched for his life-spark, the flame at the very center of his being. It didn't take her long to find the dark, blue and purple flames. She watched them for a while, admiring the colors and the way they moved, and then allowed her own fire to merge with his. Dark red and purple danced and flowed together, pooling gently in their stomachs and then raging up again. Slowly, Adara began to pull away and reign in the blaze. Her toes stopped tingling; the ache receded from her knees and shoulders. Soon, the only thing left on fire was the physical contact where her fingertips met his skin. She opened her eyes, and released him. Sweat covered both of their bodies, plastering their clothes to their skin. She lifted the blindfold from his eyes slightly sot that she could meet his silver irises with her own grey ones.

"Now kill me," she ordered, her voice cold and hard. He didn't move. She'd proven her point.

She pushed herself to her feet, feeling more exhausted than she had before her conversation with Riddick. Glancing up at the support beam he was chained to, she took a step or two backwards. Once again, she took a deep breath. Eyes fixed on her chosen target, Adara launched herself into the air, swung her leg around her body, and sliced through the metal with a single blast of fire. She landed lightly on her feet, took one last look at Riddick, and left the area.


	3. Not a social person

The sun outside was bright, hot, and harsh. Adara relished the energy her body absorbed from the brilliant celestial giant, but secretly wished the air was cooler. Vaguely, she noticed her body soaking up more energy than normal, but she attributed it to the planet and moved on. Already, her skin's temperature climbed rapidly above the heat in the air, shortening her temper. She knew she would have to fight to keep control of herself.

Fry was talking with the others, deciding what they were going to do. Adara quietly joined them.

"We're going to need water," she pointed out, startling some of the group who hadn't noticed her approach. "It won't take long for dehydration to set in."

"If we wait for nightfall it will be cooler," Shazza pointed out. "I don't want to be walking around in this heat."

"I may have something to drink in the cargo hold," Paris pointed out, "but it might have been destroyed in the crash."

"We'll go look," Fry decided. "If it's still there, we'll wait for nightfall. Then a group of us will go look for water."

Adara followed the group back into the crash ship, fully appreciating the shade it afforded.

"Hi!" The child Jack was beaming up at her, waiting for recognition.

Adara raised an eyebrow at the boy's smile. "Ummm… can I help you?"

"You're Adara, right?"

She nodded casually, intending to brush the kid off as soon as possible. "And you're Jack. Now that we know each other again, what do you want?"

Jack frowned. "You're not very friendly, are you?"

"I have my own reasons not to be."

Jack was not satisfied and came to a halt in the middle of the ravaged hallway.

Adara looked back, frustrated. "It's a bad habit. I've never been a social person, and I don't talk much. Is that enough of an explanation for you?"

Jack grinned in contentment. "For now." They walked together in silence, Adara feeling frustrated with her sudden lack of solitude; Jack feeling altogether satisfied with himself at extracting the semblance of a conversation out of his newfound "friend."

- - - - -

Adara grimaced when Paris revealed a sarcophagus filled to the brim with various alcoholic drinks. Booze had never really done anything for her, being as the alcohol evaporated before it could get to her bloodstream, and the taste of the carbon-based chemical didn't agree with her stomach too well. Feeling slightly nauseous even when the smell filtered through her nose, she decided to wait for water when the bottles were passed around. Luckily, she was not the only one to pass on the booze – Imam and his boys were prevented from drinking by religious convictions. Adara smiled at the holy man, hoping that they would help each other through the desert.

She left the cargo hold early, having no real reason to stay, and abandoned the others to talk amongst themselves for a while. In all honesty, Adara was curious about what Riddick had made of his situation. When she reached the section of the crash ship where the convict was being held, he was still chained to the now-severed vertical support.

"What's the matter?" she taunted, a smirk playing across her lips. "Did I cut it a little too high for you?"

A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth as he recognized the message in the comment. "Just waiting for the right time." He paused. "You might have cut it a little lower, though."

"Not if you wanted to keep your head. I assume you know when the 'right time' is?"

"You'll know, too, when it comes."

"Great. I'd hate to be misinformed after everything we've been through together."

"We haven't been through anything together."

"Not yet."

He was about to answer when he heard footsteps approaching. He turned to tell her to hide, but she was already gone.

"Is he really that dangerous?" Fry's apprehensive voice drifted through the cabin.

Johns chuckled, sending chills of disgust through his unseen listeners. "Only around people." The two intruders were then called outside by Shazza's startled exclamation.

Adara jumped quietly down from the dark rafters above. "Be careful," she cautioned. "You don't have much time." She paused for a moment, listening to the conversations outside before leaving. "By the way, there are three suns."

By the time Adara once again stepped out into the sun(s), decisions were already being made. A search party was being formed to look for water immediately, being as there wasn't going to be a nightfall. Fry and Johns would lead the group, naturally. Adara decided that she wanted to go along and joined the group quietly. Soon they were ready to depart, but Johns wanted to check on Riddick before they left. He came running out of the wreckage, gun at the ready, eyes searching the ground.

Adara kept her smirk to herself as she realized that Riddick had escaped. The rest of the survivors scrambled to arm themselves. She quietly accepted the small knife Paris pressed into her hand so as not to appear to confident that nothing was going to happen to her.

Jack found Adara fiddling with the blade outside the crash ship. "Don't like knives?" he asked.

Adara grinned slightly. "Quite the contrary – I'm overly fond of them."

Jack beamed at her. "Really? Me too! My parents would never let me have one when I was little. They thought it was too dangerous, but I knew how to handle one."

She smiled at the child's boast. "I was never allowed one either, but circumstances decreed otherwise. I owe my life many times over to the little buggers. They're handy in a tight spot."

"Like when?"

"It's a long story that I might tell you later."

Johns was calling the search party together to leave.

"Looks like it's time to go," she sighed, hiding her relief from the boy.

"Can I come too?"

Adara looked straight into the boy's big eyes steeled herself against his plead. "No."

His face fell.

She knelt down and put a hand on his shoulder. "You need to stay here and look after the others. I'm trusting you with that, okay? Someone could sneak up on you out hear real easily, and I need to know that no one is going to get hurt. Don't disappoint me, ya hear?"

Jack's eyes lit up with the challenge. "I won't let you down." His chest puffed out with pride at his new commission, he strode back into the crash ship.

Adara chuckled softly at his reaction, hoping that she hadn't made a mistake, and rejoined the exploration party.


	4. How do you know

Adara estimated that an hour or so had passed before the trees came into sight. Her legs sore from walking and her throat parched with unquenched thirst, she first beheld the trees with joy, seeing them as a blessing like no other. The pale, ashen branches rose high into the sky, casting their spidery shadows across the sand and projecting an eerie demeanor over the desert. Although the change of suns had done nothing to alleviate the heat, a shiver ran up and down Adara's spine as she watched the trees grow larger on the horizon with every passing step.

"Those aren't trees," she realized with dread and disappointment as they came to a halt at the peak of a small hill overlooking a valley.

"A communal graveyard, perhaps," suggested Imam. "Like the elephants of Earth."

"Is this whole planet dead?" Fry wondered out loud. With a strange mixture of apprehension and morbid curiosity, they descended into the valley of bones, feeling both compelled towards and repelled from the empty skeletons.

Adara wandered through the bones, absently touching some here and there, imagining how spectacular the creatures must have been in life. As she stopped to examine some peculiar grooves on a rib bone, she felt a disturbance in the air to her right.

"If you cut my hair in the slightest," she warned, fully aware that a stone knife was poised just above her dark, wavy locks, "I'll shove a bone so far up your ass it'll come out your mouth."

"Harsh words for such a little girl," he teased. "Are you sure you can live up to it?"

"Are you sure you want to find out?" she countered. He pulled gently on the fabric of her shirt, drawing her further into the shadows of the bones. When she got closer he grabbed her wrist to pull her further towards him. She raised the temperature of her skin until he was forced to release her.

"Damn," he swore as she turned around to face him.

"So why are you still here?" she asked, wondering why he wasn't offworld already.

"No ship. I have to wait. What are you running from?"

Adara could feel his piercing gaze even through his goggles. "Why do you want to know?"

"You didn't answer me."

"So I didn't. You didn't either."

"Call it curiosity."

"Curiosity's never been good enough for me," she smirked. "You'll have to settle for disappointment for a while."

"I don't like disappointment."

"Tough. You'll just have to suffer through it like the rest of the universe."

Their voices had grown soft through their banter. Both of them were enjoying their game.

"Could it have anything to do with this?" He reached around her waist, touching the back of her right hip with his fingers.

Her eyes narrowed. "You're extremely perceptive." She firmly removed his hand from the small symbol he had found so easily.

"You need help."

"Is that an offer or a statement?"

"Both." He was silent while Adara thought it over.

"What do you get out of it?"

"You distract Johns. I'll give you a lift."

"'I help you, you help me' kindof a deal?"

"Something like that."

"How do I know you won't drop me off at the nearest planet with a good reward for my return?"

He smirked. "You don't."

"And how do you know that I won't turn you in to the first merc I meet?"

He frowned. "I don't."

Her eyes met his through the lenses of his goggles. "We'll see."


	5. Damn it

The solar well that Imam had come across afforded little water, but it was enough to keep thirst at bay a little longer. Adara waited her turn and drank her fill from the small droplets falling through the spicket. As she sat in the dusty shade of a building, eyes closed and breathing gently, she was suddenly surprised by a baseball cap hitting her in the face. She opened her eyes to see Fry running towards something rather ordinary looking, crying, "Hellooo Mecca!"

Adara took a second look at the half-concealed structure Fry had stopped before. Her eyes widened in surprise and excitement as she recognized the form of a small spaceship underneath a sandy tarp covering. Before long, everyone had gathered around to look at what could be their way off the planet, eyes large with suppressed hope. Johns, however, shooed them all away when Fry began examining the ship. Disappointed that she would not be allowed to stay and help, Adara began wandering around the deserted town, looking for anything useful.

She put her hand on a door handle and pulled only to be met with resistance. Locked. Frowning, she debated whether or not to leave the room alone or to satisfy her curiosity and look. Deciding in favor of the latter, she touched a finger to the hinges and watched in satisfaction as they melted away. When the hinges were no longer a hindrance, Adara shoved the door part of the way open to peer into the dark room. Silently, she squeezed herself through the space between the door and the wall.

Straining her eyes to look for a window or a light of some kind, she took a few steps forward, only to be met with the edge of a table. Frustrated with the darkness, she pulled a stream of fire from her life spark into her hand and watched in pleasure as the dark red flames danced between her fingers and illuminated the room. Very suddenly, she heard an ear-splitting shriek and fell to the floor as something large hurtled through the air. She expanded the flames in her hand, allowing them to grow until she could see the room fully. There, in the corner, was what looked like an animal. It writhed on the ground, throwing its overlarge head back in agony. Adara moved closer to the creature, cautiously, wondering what it was. As the fire drew nearer, its skin broke out in scalding sores and the smell of burning flesh drifted through the air. She drew back in revulsion as the creature drew its last shuddering breath. Not daring to stay any longer, she pushed herself back out into open air and extinguished the light in her hand. Limbs shaking, she pulled the door back into place and welded it shut, willing herself to forget the creature's screams and mutilated body.

She sank to the dusty ground, leaning against the door, and closed her eyes, fatigue rushing to replace adrenaline. Instinctively, she knew that there were more of the creatures. She just didn't know where.

"Adara." Johns's voice drifted down to meet her ears. She opened her eyes noncommittally. "It's time to go." He offered his hand to help her up, but she defiantly pushed herself off the ground without his aid. Her skin crawled at the mere thought of touching the flesh of his hand. She dusted herself off and looked him straight in the eye. They stood there for a moment – him trying to figure out what she was thinking and her really wanting to just leave and have done with it.

"So let's go," she said straightly, not bothering with wit or guile. "But what's the hurry?"

He turned to leave. "I thought I heard gunshots. We should head back to make sure everything's okay."

She started walking. "I'll bet they'll all be excited about the water."

He didn't answer. She didn't expect him to. Silently, Adara followed Johns to the edge of the town where the rest of the search party was gathered, moving away from the cop to be closer to the relative safety of Imam. She'd taken a liking to the holy man's kind and protective nature and felt safe from Johns while she was near him.

They set out back to the crash ship, walking more quickly than they had before. Nearly fifteen minutes had elapsed when clear, sharp gunshots rang out. Adara paused, listening, as the rest of the party froze in surprise and alarm. When she counted three more shots, she broke out into a dead run for the crash ship, forgoing all sense of restraint. Suddenly, she heard footsteps behind her as Johns took off after her. She willed herself to push faster until the sand began to slip out from underneath her feet under the pressure of her mad dash. Johns's footsteps faltered and soon disappeared; Adara kept on.

She slid to a stop just before reaching the tarp-covered hole where Zeke had been working and took in the scene. Shazza stood, stunned, with the corner of the tarp, stained with fresh blood, in her hand. The hole, also muddied with red, dripping liquid, was empty. Everything was covered in blood. Everything, that is, except Riddick, who was crouching above the hole across from Shazza, stone knife in hand, goggled eyes alert. As Riddick rose to flee, Adara's mind caught up with her eyes. Everything was bloody. Except Riddick. The knife, his clothes, his boots, his body were all free of the oozing, dirt-and-blood solution at the bottom of the hole.

Shazza began running after the convict, shouting at the top of her lungs. Adara, still slowly comprehending the situation, pursued her. Unfortunately, as fatigue had returned to her limbs, the prospector woman ran faster. Not far ahead, Johns had already beaten Riddick to the ground. Adara pushed herself faster, but her body would not obey her. She had to get to Riddick. Shazza, in fury, began kicking the felled murderer, screaming her grief at his face. Johns did nothing to stop it. Adara, at last, reached the scene and pinned Shazza to the ground, grabbing the struggling woman's arms and pushing them into the dirt to stop her flailing.

"Shazza!" she shouted against the woman's protests. "Stop it. Stop. Now!" But her words were to no avail, the sounds lost on her ears. "Now, Shazza! Get control of yourself, dammit!"

Johns began to pull Adara away from the furious woman forcibly. The urgency of her knowledge fresh in her mind, Adara turned and hit the cop hard in the jaw and turned back to her detainee. As Adara's hands closed over Shazza's flying wrists, she saw the shadow on the ground. Then, quite suddenly, everything went dark.


	6. Why'd you do it?

Adara slowly became aware of a dull, throbbing headache emanating from somewhere behind her right ear. As she came fully into consciousness, her stomach began to churn violently. Without warning, her stomach - or what little was in it - flew out of her mouth, causing her body to heave towards the ground. Her hands, chained to the wall behind her, strained against their bonds and constricted the blood flow to her arms and shoulders. When she was done retching onto the floor, she leaned back against the wall, savoring the cool darkness enveloping her and trying really hard to ignore her headache. She tried to remember why she was chained up.

_Oh yeah,_ she thought_, I punched the cop in the face._ She smiled to herself as she thought of the bruise he must be enjoying. He _would_ be one to go to extremes over something as little as a fist to the jaw. She shifted to find a more comfortable way to sit on her wrists.

A soft chuckle coming from the other side of the room drew her attention away from the ache forming in her muscles. "Finally woke up, huh? About time. You were out for a while."

"Better late than never. Anything interesting happen?"

"Captain came in for a visit. Wanted to know what happened. And Johns came in to make sure you weren't faking."

She shuddered at the thought of Johns touching her while she'd been out. Then a more chilling idea entered her mind. "Did he see the –"

Riddick shook his head across the room. "No. I made sure he was distracted elsewhere. Your secret's still safe."

A sigh of relief escaped her lips. "Thanks. Why'd you – ?"

Again, he cut her off. "I owe you one. Shazza hits harder than I'd thought."

She looked away, feeling uncomfortable. "Don't mention it."

Of course, Fry picked that exact moment to waltz into their makeshift prison, her eyes serious and guarded. "So where is he?"

Riddick, eyes closed in cool defiance, remained silent, a smirk gently tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Tell me about the sounds," she pressed. "Look, you told Johns you heard something right before..." Still no answer. She turned to leave, frustrated at his lack of response. _Might as well be dead for all I'm gettin' out of him,_ she thought grimly. "Fine, don't talk to me. But just so ya know, there's a debate going on right now whether we should just leave you here to die."

A small spurt of panic gripped Adara as she listened to Fry's threat, only to be replaced by a dull anger. She refused to die here - not after she'd gotten so far.

"You mean the whispers?" The dark, smooth voice drifted that drifted out of Riddick's mouth caught Fry by surprise.

"What whispers?"

The smirk playing across Riddick's mouth became more prominent as he explained. "The ones tellin' me to go for the sweet spot -- just to the left of the spine, fourth lumbar down. The abdominal aorta. It's a metallic taste -- human blood. But if you cut it with peppermint schnapps, that goes away. 'Course --"

"You wanna shock me with the truth now?"

Adara couldn't hold back her smile as Riddick's charade was virtually destroyed. He answered, "All you people are so scared of me -- an' most days I'd take that as a compliment. But it ain't me you gotta worry about now."

A pause followed, loaded with Fry's frustration and Riddick's dry humor, both unspoken. Adara watched on in silence, waiting for the explosion. She wondered which of them would crack first -- Fry in anger or Riddick in laughter. As Fry opened her mouth to speak, Adara thought that would be the end of it. To her surprise, Fry changed the subject. "Show me your eyes, Riddick."

"You'll have to come a lot closer for that."

Fry started moving - slowly. She paused.

"Closer."

Hesitantly, she obeyed, wiping her sweating palms against the tight fabric covering her thigh. She closed the distance between them with a few short steps, her shoes clanging gently against the metallic floor. Then, quite suddenly, Riddick flew to his feet, straining against the chains that held him to the wall, eyes wide open and reflecting what little light there was in the room. Fry took a few steps backward in alarm and nodded her head slowly, eyes never leaving the shining orbs of his.

"Where the hell can I get eyes like that?" a younger, more eager voice filled the cabin. Adara's head snapped towards the sound as a low growl of irritation emanated from Riddick's throat.

"You gotta kill a few people."

"'Kay, I can do it."

As Riddick continued, he seemed to be speaking more to Fry than to Jack, his smirk now clearly evident on his face. "You get sent to a slam where they tell ya you'll never see daylight again. Then ya dig up a doctor, and you pay him twenty menthol kools to do a surgical shine job on your eyeballs."

Jack grinned. "So you can see who's sneakin' up on you in the dark?'

"Exactly."

Fry turned to the kid. "Leave. Now."

Jack looked like he was about to protest, but when he met Adara's eyes and saw her unspoken command._ Jack... _He left without another word.

Riddick smiled outright. "Cute kid."

"So where's the body?"

"So I killed a few people. Did I kill Zeke?" He paused for dramatic effect, trying to stretch Fry's nerves just a little farther. "No. You've got the wrong killer."

"He's NOT in the hole. We looked."

"Look deeper."

Alarm flashed across Fry's face and she left in a hurry, hands shaking. Adara and Riddick sat in silence, both uncomfortable in their restraints. Finally, Riddick's curiosity won out. "Why'd you do it?"

Adara was shaken from her thoughts. "Do what?"

"Stop Shazza."

She thought for a moment, wondering about the same thing. Riddick waited patiently. "I guess it's because... I know what it's like to be beaten like that for something you didn't do. And... well... You're the closest thing to a friend I've ever had -- even if neither of us really qualify as friend-material." Did she really just say that? Really?

For the first time in his life, Riddick was stunned into silence. He reviewed it over and over, searching for the catch and finding none. Had someone really just called him... a friend? His mind balked over the idea. He couldn't have the luxury of friends. Maybe it was time to rethink his escape plans. Something that didn't involve _her_. But the more he thought about it, the more he decided that having a friend around wasn't such a bad idea. Maybe he was tired of being alone... at least for a little while.

Before he could catch himself, he found his mouth answering her. "Me too." He clamped his lips together before he said anything else that he didn't mean to say out-loud.

A smile touched her lips as she looked up to meet his eyes across the room. Her mouth opened slightly, as if she were about to say something, but Johns, ever the irritation, stormed angrily into the room, lips stretched into a thin, dark line. He made directly for Adara, hands going for the restraints behind her. "C'mon," he snapped. "You've got a job to do." He pulled her to her feet and shoved her out the door.

"Johns," Riddick called, his voice filled with a dark urgency. The merc looked around. "If anything happens to her, I'll take it personally. Figured I'd let you know."

"I'll try to keep that in mind." He rolled his eyes irritably and left with half a mind to just shoot the girl and have done with it.


End file.
